


not for history's eyes

by bylass



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Post-Game(s), Post-Time Skip, hopefully that sweet spot between achy and swooningly romantic, hot for competent rulers, slams button on SECRET STOLEN MOMENTS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 11:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20152786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bylass/pseuds/bylass
Summary: If you knew them, you knew not to pay attention when Claude ordered a cart of roses to decorate her room with, or when they praised each other in their speeches, or when he kissed Byleth like a lovesick puppy for a greeting and she blushed red—these were genuine acts, too, but not the full truth of it. For the full truth, you had to look at the moments in between, when no one was supposed to be watching at all.(post-epilogue Byleth/Claude)





	not for history's eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I saw complaints about how the Byleth/Claude S-support isn't romantic enough because he leaves, but having watched most of the other endings, I personally think his is by far the most romantic S-support. I die, I swoon for competent rulers—while I don't care for Byleth's other S-supports half as much. Everyone has different wants for romance and Claude's ending isn't for everyone, but it's 100% perfect for me. Someone who believes in Byleth enough to trust her to be queen AND has amazing world-changing dreams? hot hot hot
> 
> anyway, this fic leans into that—

She was something like a mortal goddess and he was a king twice-crowned and together they beckoned the new dawn upon Fódlan. This would be how the history books remembered Byleth and Claude, give or take. Stories always changed as they passed down the generations, and they were mostly right and mostly thorough.

But the romance between them, you had to witness first-hand.  
  
Some version of their love story would be well-known. They inspired your usual array of songs and puppet plays; such was the ways of royal fascination, and no pair was more fascinating than the Ruler of Dawn and the King of Almyra. Claude showered his wife with affection in public, but skeptics—coincidentally often those who opposed the unification of Fódlan and negotiating with lands beyond—would sniff about how those acts leaned toward overtures. Flowers and compliments and swift embraces are all well and nice, but they were the sort of grandiose gesture that made one question their sincerity at first glance. The pair were both experts at secrets and facades, and if you didn't know the king and queen well, you might think they were putting up an act for the sake of joining their respective countries.

After all, tearing down the walls of Fódlan was a matter of utmost importance to them. The matter of the _most_ importance, even.  
  
If you knew them, though, you knew how hard they were working together to realize such dreams. You knew they mapped out their romance for the public in a way they could understand; it was easier to act the way people _expected_ them to sometimes. It meant people didn't ask too many questions. They wouldn't pry further into the heart of them.  
  
Flowers were simple. The long, tired nights spent stitching countries together… were not.  
  
If you knew them, you knew not to pay attention when Claude ordered a cart of roses to decorate her room with, or when they praised each other in their speeches, or when he kissed Byleth like a lovesick puppy for a greeting and she blushed red—these were genuine acts, too, but not the full truth of it. For the full truth, you had to look at the moments in between, when no one was supposed to be watching at all.  
  
You had to see Claude squeeze her hand tightly every time he had to travel outside Derdriu for months, right before the big public display of affection. You had to know it meant less of a goodbye and more of a promise to return in one piece, because no matter how many battles they won, the worry never went away once you gave your heart to someone else.  
  
You had to know they slept in til the very last moment before getting ready for a day of long meetings just so they could spend a few extra minutes in each other's embrace. They calculated the exact amount of time needed to wash up and clothe and run down downstairs to the audience room and pretend like they weren't running.  
  
You had to know they both made it as difficult as possible to make it there on time.  
  
You had to see Byleth flick the strand of hair that dangled in front of Claude's face like a cat toy. Not because she disliked it—on the contrary, even the history books noted it made him devastatingly handsome—but because of some inside joke that it marred his view of her beauty, and it was her way of requesting attention when she just wanted to be a little petulant.  
  
You had to know that while Claude most often referred to Byleth as _"my queen,"_ in private, he called her _"my love."_ Sometimes he let the latter slip in outside conversation, which was not a terribly big deal, but jarring on the tongue. It was not with the same tenderness as when he would find her alone and wrap his arms around her and whisper it in her ear.  
  
You had to see Byleth tip Claude's chin up when he was slumped at his desk, frustrated with bureaucracy and prideful lords. He would meet her pale gaze and she would soothe, _"We have time,"_ because she knew the world never moved fast enough for him and besides, time was a strange thing to a crest-hearted being like her. She would slide his papers aside and sit in their place and before long, he'd have drawn her onto his lap. Their fingers would be tangled in each other's hair and shirt buttons, and he would carry her to bed, if they could make it that far.  
  
You had to see how they fought. How they hurt to see the other hurt, but how fiercely they believed in them, too, so they fought to make the other better, wiser, more open-eyed to the world and all they could shift with the power they held. They were each other's guide through the flames, even if it meant they both had to get burned.  
  
And they were each other's dawn, no matter what darkness they fell in.  
  
That was the problem at the core of it: love, for all the walls it tore down, was dangerous. The greater the love, the greater the weapon; the greatest strength was the greatest weakness, if misused. For them to show the full truth was to draw a circle around the only part of them enemies ever needed to target. They opened their hearts for their people as promised, but the hearts gifted to each other had to be disguised. Just a little. The history books would never get it right.

That was fine; they liked secrets.  
  
And the greatest secret of all was that, if the need ever arose—if the other would have ever allowed it—Byleth and Claude would have given up their dreams for the other. But even they didn't know that, and perhaps it was fate that they never had to.

**Author's Note:**

> zeeohyi drew amazing art inspired by a moment in this fic, pls LOOK with thine eyes!! **[twitter](https://twitter.com/zeeohyi/status/1184049699243741185)**


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